


Baton

by DirtyKnots



Series: Kinktober 2018 [11]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Object Insertion, Roughness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-08-02 21:38:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16313123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/pseuds/DirtyKnots
Summary: Teen Wolf Kink Bingo - Square 6: Rough SexKinktober 2018 - Day 11: Object InsertionThat's certainly one way to use a police baton.





	Baton

Stiles smirked at the scowl on the guy's face when he sidled up next to the car.

“License and registration.” He could see the way the man was grinding his jaw as he leaned over to extract his registration from the glove box before passing it and his license over.

“Derek Hale. New York City. Awfully far from there aren't you? What brings you and your sports car to Beacon Hills?”

“Family business.”

“That so?” Stiles knew he was being an asshole but he couldn't stop himself. Being a deputy in Beacon Hills was _boring_ . This guy is the first new face Stiles has seen since he started with the department almost a year ago. Also, dude _was_ speeding, so, Stiles doesn't feel all that bad. He watches the heave of the guy - Derek's - chest as he sighs before gritting out an answer.

“Yes.” The word comes out sharp and Stiles’ eyebrows go up.

“Sir, I'm gonna need you to step out of the car.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nope. Out of the car.” Stiles steps back to give Derek room to open his car door and jesus fucking wept. His knees wobble, actually wobble, when Stiles catches sight of Derek's thighs. His pants are practically painted on, and leave absolutely nothing to the imagination.

“You'd be surprised.”

“What?” Stiles’ gaze snaps up and, _oh fuck_ , Derek is smirking at him. He doesn't miss it when Derek leans back against his car, hips jutting out as he hooks his thumbs into his belt loops, fingers dropping to practically frame his crotch.

“I said you'd be surprised, at just _exactly_ how much my pants can still hide."

“I...said that out loud, didn't I?” Stiles can feel his face flaming red. Derek merely smirks again, gaze traveling the length of Stiles’ body, taking him in. Stiles tries to straighten up, hands shifting to his hips, one landing on the top of his baton. “Listen, uh, you were speeding so I'm gonna need to write you a ticket.” He's doing his best to remember what he's supposed to do, but Derek is shifting against his car, leg kicking up to spread himself open a bit, stretching his jeans even tighter across his thighs and groin and Stiles is rapidly losing blood flow to his brain.

“Is that really necessary, officer?” And seriously, fuck him okay. Derek's voice has dropped lower, tone gone sultry.

“Deputy.”

“Hmm?”

“I'm...I'm a deputy. Not a police officer.”

“Okay, _deputy_. I don't think you really need to write me a ticket. I'm sure we can work something else out.” Stiles only realizes Derek is moving because he sees his bent leg drop back down, hips pushing further out as he levers himself off the car and begins to stalk over.

“What - what are you doing?” Stiles’ gaze is flicking between his cruiser and Derek and the other man doesn't miss it.

“Dash cam on?” Stiles just shakes his head no, because it's Beacon Hills and nothing ever happens so when his cam went out, he didn't prioritize fixing it. He's thinking maybe he should have. This is a back road, he didn't radio in, and Derek is looking at him like he plans to eat him. He comes to a stop barely an inch away from being completely pressed up against Stiles, his right hand reaching forward, fingertips skimming up the length of Stiles’ baton, catching against his uniform pants as they go.

“Mr. Hale I-”

“Shh. No dash cam, no problem. I think you don't want to write me a ticket at all. But you don't want me to go either. No, I think you want to know what my pants are hiding. Maybe if you behave, I'll let you see.”

“What?” Stiles’ ears feel stuffed with cotton, his head turning so he can try to catch Derek's gaze where the man's face is tilted towards his ear. He doesn't even startle when Derek manages to unclip the baton, sliding it free, tucking it under his arm as he works quickly to undo Stiles’ belt. He's stepping back with it carefully in hand, setting it in the car and leaning in, fiddling with his glove box while Stiles stands there, disarmed and dumbfounded.

“Put your hands on the hood of my car, _deputy_ , and spread your legs.”

“What?” Stiles’ voice is firmer this time, but Derek just turns back around, eyebrow arched.

“Hands on the hood and spread them.” Stiles isn't even sure why he complies. Everything that's happened in the last few minutes goes against every single protocol that has ever been drilled into his head. He moves into the beam of the car's headlights, shifting so he's between them, hands on the hood and legs spread. Derek is quick to follow behind, body brushing against Stiles’. The baton is set down next to his hand, followed by a small tub. Stiles tries to squint to see what it is, but he's distracted by Derek's arms wrapping around him, hands coming up to undo his fly before shoving his pants and briefs down to his knees. Stiles shivers in the cooler air, watches as Derek picks up the little tub.

“I know you want my cock, but I don't think you could take it. Not yet. I'm not gonna leave you empty though, _deputy_ , don't worry.” The emphasis on 'deputy’ makes Stiles shudder a bit, but not as much as the cold, wet press of fingers between his cheeks. “Relax.” Derek's fingers aren't gentle, by any stretch, but Stiles does his best to unclench, bearing down when he feels the first rough prod against his hole.

“Fuck!” Derek doesn't hesitate to shove two fingers in once he's found his mark, and Stiles can feel the burn but also the generous amount of lube. Derek stretches him quickly, more lube being added until Stiles feels like he's dripping from it, four of Derek's fingers pumping in and out of him. He can see his own cock leaking pre all over Derek's hood and almost misses it when the baton is grabbed from near his hand. “Hey! Wait, what-”

Derek cuts him off with a hiss in his ear to be quiet. Stiles swallows hard, but stops talking, his whole body tensing up.

“Relax.” Derek's voice is low and hot in his ear, and he tries to do as he's told when he feels slick plastic nudging against him. “Don't worry deputy, I'm not gonna put it all in you. Not tonight.” The words are capped by a dark chuckle and a much firmer push of hard plastic against his hole. Stiles takes a breath and does his best to relax his muscles, groaning at the stretch as Derek keeps pushing the baton inside of him. It's less than half a minute before he feels the grip pushing against the back of his balls. “Just the handle tonight deputy, see? Told you I wouldn't put it all in. You should see yourself, hole all puffy and stretched around the fat baton handle.” Derek talks as he begins to slowly twist and tug the baton back out, letting it get nearly all the way free before pushing it back in.

“Such a pretty little hole, stretched so tight. Can't believe this is the first time you've had this in your ass, you're so hungry for it. I can see your cock leaking all over my car, never even flagged when I put your baton up your ass. Feel good?”

“Ye-yeah.” Stiles nods because it does. He can feel the brush of Derek's knuckles against his thighs as he's slowly fucked by his baton, can feel Derek's warmth against his back, his hot breath puffing over his ear. It's only when he answers that he even realizes he's been softly rocking back into it every time Derek pushes in.

“That's it deputy, fuck yourself on your nightstick. You're taking it so good. Almost looks like you could take my cock.” Stiles whines when Derek shifts, his thighs spread around Stiles’ leg as he grinds himself forward. He was right, so right. His cock feels a lot bigger than it had looked when Stiles first saw the bulge in his pants. He moans when Derek pushes the baton back in all the way, the top of it pressing into his prostate, Derek twisting and grinding it in. A warm hand wraps around his cock and it only takes a few strokes before he's spilling his load all over the hood of the car, blinking back spots in his vision. Derek pulls the baton free carefully, hand stroking down Stiles’ side when it pops free and his hole flutters against the sudden emptiness. It's laid back onto the hood and then Derek is pulling up his pants and underwear, tucking Stiles away. He helps him lean against the side of the car and gets his belt back on him, barely wiping the mess of lube off of the baton before sliding it back into place.

“If you want more, let me know deputy. In the meantime, I hope you think of me every time you get ready.” Derek pats the baton softly before slipping a card into Stiles’ shirt pocket. As soon as Stiles stands up on his own, Derek is sliding into his car and smoothly pulling away. Stiles watches until the brake lights disappear into the distance before he pulls out the card, smiling when he sees a local address printed on it.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [DreamWidth](https://dirtyknots.dreamwidth.org/), all of my additional contact information can be found there or on my [Profile Page](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DirtyKnots/profile) here (including where you can leave me prompts of your own)!


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